


Heart

by PurpleArrowzandLeather



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Justice League vs. Teen Titans (2016), Son of Batman (2014), Under the Red Hood
Genre: Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Bruce Wayne is an emotional brick wall, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Father Son Bonding, Hurt/Comfort, I mean it's Jason, Mild Language, What else would you expect?, until he's mostly dead, until he's not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-19 18:02:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17606231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PurpleArrowzandLeather/pseuds/PurpleArrowzandLeather
Summary: Bruce Wayne is incapacitated after the fight with Trigon. The nerve toxin he had used to neutralize himself has done more damage than anyone would like, but some things do change for the better. Jason can only hope that it lasts in their case.





	Heart

**Author's Note:**

> All right, all right, all right! I am back in the Batfam game again. Took awhile to circle back around! :)  
> As per usual, I own nothing and all that fun jazz. Enjoy!

          There are a lot of things that Jason has come to expect, but coming home to a comatose Bruce Wayne is not one of them. He had gotten a text from Dick and showed up rather begrudgingly, but he definitely is reconsidering his attitude. Alfred has him laid out flat on the couch, a breathing mask over his face. 

          “Whoa. What happened to him? Not that I really care, but he looks like shit.” 

          Damian sits up from when he had been hidden in the enormous armchair. Jason notes his tense posture and the way he is subtly watching Bruce. “Raven’s father escaped from his magical prison and tried to destroy the world. A demon possessed father and he then used the Bane nerve toxin to neutralize himself.” 

          Jason’s brow furrows and he looks down at Bruce. Every breath wheezes out of his chest with a painful rasping sound. “How long has he been like this?” 

          “A little over a week. He’s on an IV most days, but his temperature was falling, so we brought him here.” 

          Jason hates to even think it, but he softens on the old man a little. It’s hard not to when he knows what the toxin does to Bane. He doesn’t want to know what it feels like to be Bruce.  

          He sits down in the seat across from him, watching his chest rise and fall. As much as he usually hates the guy, it is a comfort to see him breathe. He slept on that chest once or twice before his unfortunate death, and Bruce was always so warm. Damian looks at him with a questioning expression before scowling. 

          “Come to gloat, Todd? Do you want to tell father how much better you are than him?” 

          “Naw. Dickiebird texted me with an emergency. I would guess this was it, so I should probably wait to see what he wants me to do before I say no and leave.” 

          Damian glares hard at him, throwing a pen. Jason catches it between his hands and flicks it back. Damian is about to hurl it back with stabbing power when Bruce’s breath hitches in his chest. He starts to cough. Jason nearly launches himself from the couch to help Damian stabilize him. He holds down Bruce’s arms while Damian reaches for the syringe full of pain suppressants.  

          Bruce gasps, struggling to pull in a breath. He fights Jason’s arms where they hold onto him because it must hurt to be touched at all. Jason grunts as Bruce’s fist flies towards his stomach, but he doesn’t let go. He doesn’t need the runt to get clobbered in the face. That wouldn’t help anyone. He takes another hit moments after that thought. 

          Bruce finally calms after another minute, his mouth open as he takes in heavy breaths. Jason can’t help the hand that he puts on Bruce’s arm, sighing as he drops his head. He rubs his cheek, grimacing. 

          “How are you, kid?” Jason looks to Damian.  

          The kid doesn’t answer, staring at Bruce with a fearful expression.  

          “Hey, short stack. You hear me?” 

          Damian sets the needle off to the side before settling on his knees, his breaths shallow. Jason hesitates before putting a cautious hand on Damian’s shoulder. He can understand how that might have freaked him out a bit. Even Jason is a little shaken.  

          Jason picks Damian up and the kid wraps around him. As confrontational as he makes himself out to be, he does have a vulnerable spot. Bruce is most of it, and his brothers make up the rest. Damian presses his face into Jason’s shoulder, gripping his leather jacket.  

          Jason bounces him a little, trying to help him calm down. “It’s okay, kiddo. He’s gonna be fine.” 

          Damian growls a little. “I don’t need you to coddle me.” 

          “This is called a hug. I’m not coddling anyone, squirt.” 

          Jason holds the boy until he falls asleep, and only after that because he can’t find a way to put him down without waking him back up. Dick doesn’t ever show up, and Jason is starting to get the idea that this was a trap all along. Bruce’s episode likely wasn’t part of the plan, but it helped things along. 

          Bruce groans and Jason turns a bit, checking to make sure he isn’t waking up before he’s really ready to. Bruce would try to pretend he was fine and eventually get himself in trouble if he did.  

          “Aww. You big softy.” Tim says, lurking in the doorway. 

          “Shut up.” Jason answers, rubbing Damian’s back with a steady hand. 

          “So, how did this happen?” 

          “Bruce had a fit. It freaked him out.” 

          Tim comes around the edge of the makeshift bed, feeling his skin. “He’s chilly.” 

          “Which is crazy, because he’s also sweating.” 

          “Chills. Fun.” 

          “I’d about imagine that you know the feeling every month or so. I have never known anyone as prone to sickness as you.” 

          Tim narrows his eyes, but he doesn’t do anything, the risk of waking Damian far too high.  “See that’s funny, because from where I’m sitting, you almost look like you care about that kinda thing. That, and you’re holding Damian. The kid you call a demon spawn.” 

          “I’m  _sorry_. Have you happened to notice the black eyes of a raccoon on this kid? Just look at him. He probably hasn’t slept in days.” 

          Tim shrugs. “Sounds like caring to me.” 

          “You shut your pie-hole. You guys are lucky I’m here at all, but if you want me to go, it’s not like I give a damn.” 

          Tim scoffs. “Fine. Then put Damian down.” 

          Jason hesitates, not wanting to find out the hard way the consequences of waking the kid up. 

          “Told you so.” 

          Damian starts to stir a little and Jason scowls at Tim, continuing to bounce the kid to keep him asleep. If Damian wasn’t so tired-looking, Jason would think he might be faking it, but there is no way he would resign himself to being in Jason’s arms if he was.  

          “He’s asleep?" 

          Jason pauses, turning just a little to see Dick standing in the doorway with his mouth open. He throws the idiot a shark smirk and Dick makes a face. He scolds Jason lightly for not being able to get along with anyone, but Jason doesn’t give him the satisfaction of yelling at him. He’s busy. 

          Alfred strolls through the room after another half-hour of them awkwardly arguing and growling at each other.  “I see that we are all getting along nicely as ever.”  

          The three of them lose their scowls as his subtle warning, Jason’s fingers twitching as he wishes for a cigarette. Still, he isn’t willing to wake up the brat on his shoulder just to smoke. He supposes he’s being a little too good to the boy, but he does look like he could use the sleep. 

          He walks outside, keeping out of the chilly wind that Gotham is so famous for. Damian curls a bit closer to him and Jason rubs his back, turning his shoulders enough to block the wind. Usually when he’s out here, he’s relieving a bit of stress by smoking, but not with Damian propped on his shoulder. He wonders just how stressed he would have to be to actually attempt to put the kid down.  

          He hears Bruce having another fit inside and winces, tilting his head back against the wall of the house.  Out of anyone in the house that Jason understands on a larger scale, Damian is a very clear picture. While not exactly socially adept, Damian is the relatable one.  

          “Mmm.... Todd?” 

          Jason leans forward, shifting back to look at Damian’s face. “Hey, squirt. Feeling better?” 

          Damian restrains himself from spitting back a retort, instead shaking his head.  “I am reasonably concerned for father. In his current state-” 

          “Kid, it ain’t illegal for you to say you’re worried. It’s human. I’d... .“ Jason sighs. “I would be lying if I said I wasn’t worried.”  

          “But, you don’t... you hate him.” Damian murmurs. “You hate him, so why worry?” 

          “Damian, I don’t hate Bruce. I mean, I do, but… I just, uh... I just strongly disagree with him. He can’t accept me for who I am, so I stay out of his way.” 

          Damian nods, keeping quiet for a moment before asking a quiet question. “Do you love him?” 

          Jason stills a smidge before smiling. “That man is the biggest pain in my ass to have ever existed, but... he did raise me for a little while. I hate to admit it.” He laughs to himself, shaking his head. “I  _still_ look up to him. I still need him.” 

          “That isn’t what I asked.” 

          Jason huffs. “No. I suppose it isn’t.” 

          “So?” 

          “Yes. I love him. I hate him so much sometimes, but I can never not love him for helping me. For being good to me when the rest of the world thought I was worthless. For adopting me, protecting me.” He makes an exasperated noise. “There is no way to express how thankful I am for that, and that I forgive him for everything else. I may not agree with him, but I forgive him.” 

          “He... loves you?” 

          Jason chuckles, hefting Damian a little higher onto his hip. “Yeah. He’s an emotionally constipated brick wall, but yeah. That’s why he lectures me so much.” 

          Damian voices an even quieter question and Jason’s jaw drops.  

          “Kid, Bruce would chop off his own arm to make you happy. Of course he loves you!”  

          “You don’t think I’m a burden?” 

          Jason’s brow furrows. “Just how long have you been without sleep?” 

          “Seventy-three hours and twenty-two minutes.” 

          “How are you supposed to be the best if your body shuts down, huh runt?” 

          Damian sniffs, his eyes welling up with tears. This kid really needs a good night’s rest or seven. He holds onto Damian as he starts to cry, reassuring him in a low tone. Damian is very, very emotional when he’s tired.  

          “Jason!” 

          Damian’s head comes up, nearly nailing Jason in the nose. Jason runs inside, Damian over his shoulder. He has to put him down when he sees Alfred pushing the crash cart. He helps Dick put Bruce on the floor and tears Bruce’s shirt open, not about to wait for a pair of scissors. Tim holds onto Damian as they back away, keeping him from springing forward and interrupting Alfred.  

          They get him back, but he still doesn’t regain consciousness. Dick runs a hand through his hair, swiping at his face. He looks about as good as a ghost, as pale as he is.  

          Bruce is worse. The boys carry him up into the master bedroom and Alfred gets him set up with a breathing tube and some fluids. He doesn’t like the needle for the IV, his hand moving of its own volition to remove it as it jabs into his skin.  

          After they get him to relax, the boys set up shop around the bed, watching over him. Dick holds a sleeping Damian in his arms now, Tim huffing at him. Jason moves out onto the balcony, pulling his cigarettes out of his pocket and closing the doors behind him. He leans on the railing, flicking out his lighter and getting a good burn going. Sighing as his nerves calm a little, he puffs out a billowing cloud of smoke. 

          He ducks his head, hunching a little. “You know, Bruce. This is pretty sad when you think about it.” he mumbles, glancing inside at the man in question. “The only parts of the day you ever have time to be around your kids is when you’re unconscious.” 

          Jason takes a long drag, flicking the embers from the end of the cigarette afterwards. He rubs at his chest along the line of a new scar. Some punk with a knife got lucky after robbing a convenience store. He paid for it. Jason made sure of that much.  

          He begrudgingly heads back inside as thunder rumbles overhead, threatening to drench him. He stubs the butt of his cigarette out on the cement of the overhang and tosses it into the bin below. Alfred knows him well. 

          He settles down into the chair he had dragged in with the others and kicks his feet up on the edge of Bruce’s bed. Jason tilts his head back and falls asleep to the rasp of Bruce’s breaths. As long as he keeps breathing, everything will be just peachy. He’s fairly certain someone drapes a blanket over his legs, but he’s too busy enjoying his nap to be for sure.  

          Jason is awoken sometime later by a quiet groan. He lifts his head, running a hand through his hair and glancing around. The other three idiots are gone, meaning that Jason is alone with Bruce. Sparing the old man a cautious glance, he notes that his eyes are open just a smidge. He carefully approaches the bed. 

          “Hey, B.” he whispers, leaning on the edge. 

          He opens his mouth, but he can’t get his voice to work. 

          “No, no, no. Don’t try to talk. That isn’t a good idea.” 

          Bruce being Bruce, he tries anyway. “...son.” 

          “I’m gonna guess that was supposed to be my name. Yes, it’s me. Dick called, but he didn’t say what it was all about. You died once, and now we’re in your bedroom.” 

          Bruce minutely shakes his head, and the effort makes his face twist with pain. Jason doesn’t dare touch him, not wanting his nerves to flip out. Bruce’s ice blue eyes stare up at him, gratitude in his expression.  

          “Hey, don’t you get all sappy on me.” 

          “Son.” he says again, the one word costing him. Still, he looks pretty damn happy to be saying it.  

          Jason sighs. “Yeah, fine. Whatever.” 

          Bruce smiles, but it turns into a grimace. Jason encourages him to close his eyes and go back to sleep. 

          “Just get some rest, old man. There’ll be no jumping off rooftops for you if you don’t get some sleep.” 

          He’s almost asleep when he blinks, coming back around. “Tr-… Trigon?” 

          “Don’t worry, Bruce. Damian has that handled. He’s probably sleeping somewhere right about now.” 

          Bruce lets out a rattling breath, closing his eyes again. Jason heads out the door and down the stairs, finding Dick pacing in the entry. Alfred is in the kitchen with Tim, serving him coffee that he really shouldn’t be having. Damian is asleep on the large couch, nearly engulfed by a blanket.  

          “Dick?” 

          He turns. “Morning, lazy daisy.” 

          Jason scowls. “Shut up. I needed a nap, so I took one.” 

          “Gettin’ old, huh?” 

          Jason huffs. “No older than you.” 

          Dick growls at him a little, but he doesn’t mean it. “So... how is he? I mean, this is me figuring you at least checked on him before you left.” 

          “He’s doing better. Woke up for a little bit.” He deliberately leaves out the part about Bruce calling Jason his son with a pleased expression. 

          “Did he say anything? Is he okay?”  

          Jason shakes his head. “He was glad to see someone there, though.”  

          Alfred makes his way up the stairs and the boys watch him go. Dick nods, wandering towards the kitchen and pouring himself a cup of coffee. He overloads it with sugar in a way that would make Alfred give him a crippling look of disappointment. Jason can’t say he blames him, but still.  

          Dick presses a hand to his forehead. “At least he woke up. That’s good news.” 

          Jason nods, moving towards the entry and grabbing his leather jacket off the hook. He only just opens the door when Tim calls after him. 

          “You’re leaving?” 

          “I’ve got things to do. Call if it’s an emergency.” 

          His older brother huffs, putting his coffee cup down with a sharp clack. “Are you gonna answer the phone?” 

          Jason shrugs a shoulder noncommittally. “Maybe. Maybe not. We’ll just have to see.” 

          He closes the door behind him and walks over to his bike, swinging a leg over and pulling away from the manor. The main gate doesn’t open for him right away and he looks to the speaker. 

          “Do be careful, Master Jason.” 

          “Sure thing, Alfie. Take care of yourself.” 

          With that, the gate opens and Jason rides off. It’s getting dark now, what little sunlight that touches Gotham fading away. Patrol time is close at hand and Jason needs to be ready for a night of gunfire and screaming.  

          About an hour later, Jason finds himself crouched on the edge of a tall building. He stares out over the city and he can almost imagine a younger Bruce standing next to him, his cape flicking in the wind.  _Now isn’t that an old memory._  He scans the radio waves for something to do and finds a drug deal going down nearby to be the optimal choice.  

          He breaks it up within a couple minutes and finds himself with nothing to do again. He sighs, thinking back to Bruce and his ailment. That is going to suck for a long time. Depending on how long it affects his nervous system with the counteragent working, he might need to work on muscle control.  

          Jason climbs his way up to the rooftop above him, peering down into an alley below as he passes. Some punk happens to glance up and he chuckles nervously, putting his switch away. Jason glares at him, but lets him go. His presence should be enough to ward him off for a night or two. He hasn’t had the chance to swing around Gotham in a long while and pulls out his grapple. Usually he keeps to his territory, and the rest of Gotham belongs to the Bat. Seeing as the Bat isn’t really operational at the moment…. 

          While he’s running across the length of Wayne Tower – because why not – he spots Black Bat stringing up a mugger from a street lamp. He chuckles at her as she sends him a short salute and darts back into the shadows. He’s almost tempted to paint on the side of the building, but vandalism is pretty low on his to-do list. It can wait until Bruce is in proper condition to attempt making him feel guilty about it. He wouldn’t, but it’s the thought that counts.  

          He’s swinging through the air when someone latches onto him. They don’t make an effort to pull him off course and he lands carefully on the next building. Said person climbs off and he turns.  

          “Cass? What are you doing, huh?” 

          She wraps him in a cautious hug. “Brother.” 

          Jason pats her back. “It’s good to see you, too, sis. Anything fun happen yet tonight?” 

          She shakes her head. “B?” 

          “He’s doing better.” Jason answers, walking towards the edge of the building and springing to the next one. He grunts with exertion and rubs at his chest. “Not that I care.” 

          She blinks at him. Jason can feel it through her lenses. “Liar.” 

          Jason huffs, tugging on her left bat ear before running off. “You’re it.” 

          Cass seems to debate over whether or not to play for a moment before giving chase. Jason is fast, but Cass is much lighter on her feet than he is. After about fifteen minutes, they run into Batwoman and she smiles indulgently at the pair. They offer to let her join, but she declines.  

          “I was… a little worried about the big guy. He is my cousin, after all, even if he is distant.” 

          Jason sighs. “Yeah. It seems I’ve adopted the role of filling people in completely by accident.” 

          “So?” 

          “He’s okay… ish. As okay as anyone would expect him to be after he injected Bane’s nerve toxin into himself.” 

          Katie blinks. “Why would he have done that?” 

          “A demon possessed him for a second, but he took himself out before he could cause any trouble. At least, that’s the brat’s report.” 

          “Yikes. Well, when he feels better, tell him to give me a call.” 

          Jason makes an exasperated noise, pulling his helmet off and scowling at her. “What do you take me for? A messenger boy? The old man and I aren’t exactly on good speaking terms.” 

          Katie nods. “That sucks.” 

          Jason’s about to answer when a purple blur flips into position next to Cass. “Hey, what’s up?” 

          Jason bites his tongue to keep from spitting an answer out that he’d regret, instead shaking his head and jumping to the nearest building. Cass waves and then follows him, catching up just long enough to tag him. Jason laughs, pulling out his jump line to catch her. It wraps around her arms and middle, but she twists around mid-air, slicing the line with a knife hidden in the toe of her boot. Jason chases after her, having lost a good amount of ground. 

          He follows her into an alley where another mugger lies unconscious on the ground, a lady with a purple purse staring as he runs past. Jason only chuckles a bit, catching up to her with long strides. Out of all of his siblings, he thinks he likes Cass the best. She isn’t nosy. He doesn’t have to tell her his boundaries. She likes ice cream as much as he does.  

          She disappears. 

          Jason slows, cautiously studying the shadows around him. He hasn’t been down this particular street in years, even with as many patrols he’s been on. It’s then that he realizes they’re about to cross over into his territory. They’ve come a really long way.  

          “How you remember it?” 

          Jason glances over his shoulder at Cass. “No.” 

          She points to a building on the far left. “Rebuilt.” She picks out four or five others just in the city block that are new after that one before getting to her point. “Wayne Foundation.” 

          “Gotham’s favorite son had these built, huh?” 

          “Low-income housing.” 

          Jason nods. “And?” 

          She gestures for him to come along and she walks into an apartment building. He follows, stopping with her when they arrive in front of a specific door. She inserts a key. 

          “Mine.” 

          Jason looks around, noting that the place is well put-together. “It’s nice. You could use a couple bookshelves, and maybe a couple of plants. Maybe a one-way window.” 

          Cass grins at him. Jason stays close to the doorway, not wanting to invade her space, but she drags him inside anyway. She seems happy to have him there. Since he is, he decides to see what she has for cooking materials. He checks around her cupboards, finding them mostly bare, but still enough for one person by far. She has the non-perishables that Alfred likes to stock everyone with and her spice cabinet is full. He chuckles when he finds Cass’s favorite seasoning unopened with the letter still attached. Alfred's loopy script invites her to enjoy it.  

          She settles onto a bar stool at the island, resting her head on her hands and smiling at Jason as he rummages. It isn’t long before he asks her if she wants something to eat. Cass is always up for food. He knows that.  

          In no time at all, he’s cooked up a beautiful pair of omelets, sprinkling them with cheese and other greens. Jason reaches up into the cabinet and pulls her seasoning down. She takes it with a quiet smile and doctors the omelet to her liking. Jason lets out a deep laugh as she nearly slides off her chair biting into it.  

          “This is… wonderful.” She says, talking between bites.  

          Jason smiles, digging into his own with a fork like a civilized person. He leans on the countertop, his thoughts rolling with the simplicity of this moment. He’s enjoying having a good time with his little sister.  

          Still, it’s interrupted by a ringing from his cell. He debates over answering it, the sound of Dick’s ringtone making him wary. Cass looks up at him for all of a second before shrugging. Jason decides to take the call. 

          “Verne’s Roadkill Café, you kill ‘em, we grill ‘em. How may we help you?” 

          “ _Bruce had another attack._ ”  

          Jason grits his teeth. “How bad?” 

          “Bad enough. Damian is freaked out and Tim doesn’t want to leave the room. I need you to help me with them.” 

          “Don’t you usually handle the brat? Tim should be a piece of cake comparatively.” 

          He can almost hear Dick shaking his head. “Bruce died for about a minute. He panicked.” 

          Jason pauses. Tim doesn’t panic. Ever. “Fine. I’ll be there in twenty.” 

          Cass pulls his locator from his pocket and calls his bike to her apartment building, parking it in the alley below. He thanks her and asks her to cover up his food before hauling ass. He puts on his helmet to make sure that people get out of his way, knowing that his guns show when his leather jacket flips in the wind. He supposes he should have zipped it, but he has no fear of losing anything.  

          He has to take a detour to avoid a pile-up along his route, skidding into an alley and shooting out the other side. He nearly hits a cat on the way by, but she runs away just in time. All in all, it doesn’t take too long to get to the manor. 

          Jason stows his helmet under the seat, placing the black one he usually wears on the handle instead. Thankfully, the manor can be reached without taking the road leading to it, but still. No use raising suspicions if someone stops by. 

          Alfred greets him at the door and Jason answers him, swiftly moving upstairs. At current, the ‘no guns in the manor’ rule is the last thing on his mind. 

          He opens Bruce’s door, noting that the breathing tube has been replaced by a standard breathing mask. Hopefully that means things are looking up.  

          “Demon Spawn? Timmers?” 

          He finally pulls his gaze away from Bruce and spots Tim next to the bed. He’s staring at him without touching his skin. His breathing isn’t any weaker, so that’s a good sign. He approaches, the boy, spotting Dick holding onto Damian out on Bruce’s balcony.  

          “Tim?” 

          He turns, looking up at Jason. “I… I almost lost another dad.” 

          Jason hates to say that he had the same revelation on his way over. “I know, kiddo.” 

          Tim wraps his arms around Jason as he nears, crying into his Kevlar. Jason rubs his back, not resisting as the kid leans his head against Jason’s chest. He isn’t getting any taller, that’s for sure.  

          Jason’s knows that he can be pretty mean from time to time, but he’s not mean enough to not comfort his brothers when they need it. Dick is another story. If he hugs Dick, that leech will never let go. 

          Tim calms after a long while, Jason rocking back and forth a little to help sooth him. He isn’t the greatest big brother, and probably shouldn’t be here anyway, but he isn’t about to take off when his adopted family needs him most. Besides, he’s found that Timmy isn’t so bad, now that he’s gotten over the ‘replacement’ stuff. 

          Even the demon brat… well, not really. He’s still a spoiled little monster, but he does have a vulnerable side. Jason has seen more of it in the past day than he ever has.  

          “Don’t worry, Timmers. The counteragent will get him through this eventually. And even if it doesn’t, he’s the damn Batman, for crying out loud.” 

          “Master Jason, I do believe it would behoove you to watch your tongue.” 

          Jason chuckles nervously. “Yeah. Sorry, Alfred.” He hadn’t realized the silent butler had entered the room. 

          Dick comes back inside just as Tim pulls away, composing himself in only a few short moments. He nearly looks as if nothing had happened. Nearly. Damian is asleep on Dick’s shoulder and Jason can’t help but feel relieved. Both of the two younger ones could use the sleep. He doubts he’ll convince Tim to get some rest, and he hates being sedated as much as any of them.  

          Alfred lightly flicks the IV line, humming to himself lightly. As he does, Bruce groans. The boys all turn and Alfred raises a brow, waiting for Bruce to wake up again.  

          Tim pulls away from Jason to lean over the edge of the bed. “Bruce? Can you hear me?” 

          His breath puffs out heavily, fogging up the breathing mask as he opens his eyes. His glances to Tim, but his gaze it a little unsteady. He takes in their concerned expressions and his butler standing over the foot of his bed and sighs.  

          Jason is the first to glare at him. “You died. Again.” 

         The breathy sound that comes from him could be another sigh, but anyone who knows him would be more inclined to interpret it as a laugh. Bruce’s laughs are a rare thing. 

         He takes in a raspy breath before using his exhale to mutter something under the oxygen mask. They listen a little closer, expecting him to try again because he’s Bruce. None of them would be shocked if that name translated to stubborn in some other language.  

          “My boys.” 

          All of them harbor pained smiles as Dick puts his free hand down on the bed next to Bruce’s hand. “You just get better, okay?” 

          He lets out another small laugh, this one nearly a chuckle as he wakes up a bit more. “As you wish.” 

          Jason tries not to take that too much to heart. He could just be being general so he doesn’t feel bad. Naturally, because he was raised by the Batman, he knows that it’s a lie. Bruce would never have said it if he didn’t at least mean it a little bit. Especially in his state.  

          Jason decides not to dwell on it, but he does try to work in a little time to see the old man more often. If the pair of them can suss out a truce after he’s feeling better, then it’ll be worth the effort. No one questions him when he stops by the manor multiple times after that. The only people who spend more time with him are Dick and Damian. He honestly has no idea what possesses him to do it, but Bruce seems to enjoy the hell out of his mere presence. He smiles at him and holds simple conversation if he can over the next few days.  

          He even calls Jason on his language once, but it saps his energy enough that he just listens to Jason talk.  

          And since Bruce is rather vulnerable in his current predicament, Jason takes the time to try to explain himself. To explain why he does what he does. Bruce makes it through all of his arguments without getting too worked up. And after hours of basically talking to himself, Bruce offers up a small apology, taking a few words to try to explain himself, too. The both of them find that it’s easier this way. It’s easier when Bruce  _has_  to listen to him, lest he tire himself out too much.  

          It still scares Jason to see him like this. Helpless, and trapped in his own skin. Bruce has always been strong, but he isn’t invincible. This makes that fact startlingly clear. There are some days where he’ll stay for hours – without anyone but Alfred knowing he’s been there – just coming to grips with that. Those are the days that Bruce is too exhausted to wake up.  

          After two weeks, he’s gained back some of his strength, but it isn’t a lot. They’ve administered a higher dosage of the counteragent a couple times, and it does seem to be helping. He can stay up longer and talk to them a bit more, but he doesn’t have it in him to sit up in bed.  

          It’s strange to see him so dependent on others.  

          Jason sometimes wonders if Bruce will change back into the man he was before after he’s better. He wonders if Bruce will shut him out again. After a month of being with him practically every day, he’s shocked to find how much he doesn’t want that to happen.  

          When Jason arrives in his room at the end of the first month, Bruce is asleep. Jason closes the door without a sound. He settles down in the chair next to the bed without making it creak. Even so, Bruce wakes up. He looks at Jason with so much fondness in his gaze that Jason fights the urge to head for the hills. It’s not in his nature to stay when things are getting good. That’s the calm before the shitstorm that he knows is coming. Jason feels a little sick to his stomach as he realizes that he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. He hates that he knows he has to, because once Bruce is better, things will change.  

          “Jason?” 

          He startles. “Yeah, B? What’s up? Do you need somethin’?” 

          “You’re crying.” he answers, his expression pained. 

          Jason wipes his face, clenching his jaw as he turns away to hide himself. He slouches back in the chair, covering his eyes as he tries to stop the tears. He can feel Bruce’s gaze on him. 

          “Son.” 

          He runs a hand through his hair, leaning forward to put his elbows on his knees as he laces his fingers over the back of his head. “What happens, huh?”  

          Bruce’s tone is confused. “When?” 

          “When this is all over. What happens when you get better and then we start fighting again? What happens when we push each other away because you can’t be so understanding?” 

          Bruce watches him as he pulls his head up, running a shaky hand through his hair again as he wipes his face. He covers his mouth as a shuddering breath leaves him. For Jason, that’s about as good as a sob.  

          He stills as Bruce lifts his hand to reach out to him. Jason cautiously takes it, wondering how much it hurts. Jason leans towards the bed, pressing Bruce’s warm hand to his forehead as he cries. He strokes Jason’s hair with the little strength that he has, his fingers pausing on the white streak. Jason can barely choke out a sentence to tell him to save his energy.  

          “You don’t... you don’t condone killing, and I am a... a murderer, Bruce. You’ll never be able to... to accept that.” 

          “My son.” Bruce answers, his tone more forceful than Jason would have expected.  

          Jason just barely brings himself to look at Bruce. “Yeah? And what happens if I shoot the Joker in cold blood? Or any other criminal?” 

          Bruce’s hand drops and Jason is afraid that he’s overdone it when Bruce’s finger pokes firmly at his chest. He glances down at it before switching back to Bruce.  

          “I know... what’s inside you. You are brave, strong... passionate, in ways that I can’t be. I don’t... I don’t like that you kill, but I wo- wouldn't give up having you back for  _anything_. I know your heart, Jason.” His speech is stunted by his short breaths, but he powers through, his words having the weight of lead. 

          Bruce cups Jason’s cheek in his calloused hand, wiping tears away with his thumb. Jason leans into the hand before taking it back in his own. He breaks down by Bruce’s bedside. Bruce tries to quiet him, but it only makes it worse. Jason isn’t prepared for the emotional turbulence of this kind of thing, always having distanced himself before anything could come of it.  

          “ _Damn it, Bruce_.” 

          Bruce chuckles softly, his hand gripping Jason’s as tightly as he can manage. Jason is more than touched by Bruce’s words, a warm feeling running through him. Jason has no idea how to handle the pride in his expression. The stress causes him to continue to do the one thing he’s been efficient at so far: cry.  

          It’s only when Bruce’s hand starts to shake does Jason calm down enough to help him back to sleep. He spends the next hour with him anyway. That was probably the longest sentence Bruce had said all month, and it’ll be a wonder if he wakes up again tomorrow.  

          Jason doesn’t care. Bruce gave him the one thing he’d been waiting for since he came back from the dead. Sure, it wouldn’t be perfect, and they would butt heads a lot, but Bruce was willing to let him stay. Jason was willing to try.  

          Jason adjusts his sedative drip a little bit, hoping to help him sleep more comfortably. He knows that Alfred will change it back if he thinks it might be too much for Bruce’s body to handle, but Bruce needs the sleep. He needs to rest so that he can tell Jason all of this crap again when he’s healthy so Jason can know for sure.  

          All the hours he’s sacrificed to try to fix this can’t have been for nothing. Bruce did raise him for a little while, and in a few of their more recent talks, Bruce let onto some pretty dark happenings from After Jason’s death. He’d never tell Bruce that he chased down the rumor that Batman had nearly killed the Joker before Goldie intervened. Not if Bruce didn’t offer the information to Jason himself. He supposes if they repair their relationship enough, Bruce might be willing to discuss it at a future point in time. It’ll be after he’s healthy again, because they will most definitely argue over it, but he wants that chance.  

          He  _needs_  that chance, and Jason will do whatever it takes to get it. 

**Author's Note:**

> Wow. Tears. Help.  
> Please feel free to let me know what you thought! :)


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